The Loaded Gun
by Phx
Summary: Dean and Bobby talk about angels, Sam and Dean... Set in season 4.


_Set in Season 4, so expect some vague spoilers. _Thank you, Alaina for the beta.

_**The Loaded Gun**_

Dean Winchester sat on Bobby Singer's front steps and nursed a cold beer as his weary gaze stared out over the distance without really seeing anything. There was just so much going on, he felt like he was going to burst, unable to ground himself anymore or navigate his way out of the fog that had become his life and his relationship with his brother.

Behind him he heard someone come out of the house but knew it wasn't Sam, it was Bobby.

"What do you think my Dad would do?" Dean heard himself asking before he even knew he had a question. "About all this, I mean. Sam, Castiel, _me_…"

Bobby sighed but didn't sit down next to him. For a long time the older man didn't answer and Dean was just getting ready to get up and go back inside the house when the experienced hunter sighed loudly and spoke.

"If your daddy was here right now, he'd be playing with fire."

Dean glanced up at the cryptic nature of the answer. "Playing with fire?"

"Sure," Bobby grinned and sat down next to him now, "his usual stuff. Pissing people off on both sides to get the job done."

"Not sure I get you…"

"Dean," the older man sighed, his face suddenly grave, "you know exactly what your old man would be doing. Just think about it."

"I used to think so but now I'm not so sure anymore." It pained him to admit it but things had gotten so grey in his life, Dean just had no idea anymore.

"Well for one thing, I am pretty certain heaven would be missing an angel, that's for sure."

_Uriel._

Dean snorted a laugh, imaging that meeting. John Winchester was a bastard but he did love his boys so Dean could easily imagine the incensed hunter taking the angels to task and then giving then their walking papers. If the Winchesters weren't good enough to help before, they damn well didn't need their help now.

"And your brother… well, Dean…" Bobby trailed off and got a funny look on his face, like he'd bitten into something nasty.

"Bobby?" He braced himself for whatever it was the older man was hesitant to tell him.

"Dean," the man tried again, this time apology hung on his face. "Your Daddy was a soldier and a damn fine one. He was trained to use whatever was available to him." He stared at Dean meaningfully, "_Whatever_."

It took him a moment to get what Bobby was saying and then it was like a whoosh of air out of his lungs. "He'd be encouraging, Sammy," he finally whispered out, "He'd want Sam to learn…" his voice trailed off as bitterness tossed his stomach.

Bobby was nodding, his face even more grim. "So he could use your brother."

Dean took a mouthful of beer mulling this over. Bobby was right. And now that he thought about it, it was easy to imagine how excited John would have been to have a son that could exorcise with thought, and heaven knew, what else Sam could do.

"But," Bobby's gruff voice broke into his thoughts. "But," he repeated, "he'd also be watching… with loaded gun." Now it was Dean who was grim as the man finished, "First sign of trouble and he'd take the kid out himself."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard at the thought.

"It wouldn't have been easy for him, though, Dean. Don't ever think that. Your Daddy loved both you boys more than his own life," Dean already knew that, "but he'd also kill you first before he'd let anything hurt you like that."

Dean put his bottle down on the step next to him. Bobby was right on both counts. His father wouldn't have been sidetracked by angels or afraid of Sam. Afraid _for_ Sam and watchful to make sure this didn't destroy Sam, but not afraid of the kid. Not like Dean was.

"What the hell happened to me?" he found himself asking. "When did I start letting things get in between me and my family? Me and Sam." He thought about his brother's lies and continuing deception snorting bitterly to himself, "Probably around the same time I let him know he couldn't come to me about these things anymore without me ripping a strip off him. Man," he ran his hand through his short hair, "I've really screwed things up."

"Dean…"

"No, Bobby. I have. I'm not trying to say Sam's not got his own share of blame on this too, but for the last year I've been wound so tight about all this, and about what Dad told me I might have to do, that I've shut the kid down and made it impossible for him to tell me the truth about what's going on. Shit. What the hell happened?" he repeated.

"Hell, Dean," Bobby spoke quietly, "Hell happened."

Dean considered that for a moment and then nodded. "Well, yeah but…" he sighed and scrunched up his face. "Dad would have encouraged him, huh?"

Bobby watched Dean for a moment, then shifted his own gaze out over the yard. "With a loaded gun."

"Yeah, kinda hard to forget that part."

"Knowledge is power," the older man stated out of the blue and when Dean gave him a blank look he continued, "safer to know how to use a weapon than to have your enemy teach you through the humility of defeat."

"Who said that?" Dean had never heard that one before.

"I said it, you idjit," Bobby scoffed and then stood up.

Dean stood with him.

"You never answered about what you think Dad would have done about me."

"About you?' the older man looked at him quizzically.

"You know…" Dean shifted uncomfortably. He'd told Bobby a bit about his time in hell one night over too much whiskey and a large dose of self-recrimination. And just like Sam, the older man hadn't said anything, just nodded, listened and never spoke of it again. "About what I did. In hell.

"What you did?" Enlightenment fired protectiveness in the older hunter and his conviction startled Dean. "You survived, Dean. No shame in that." He paused and added when he saw the doubtful look on the younger man's face. "Your Daddy was there too, Dean, don't forget that. He would have understood and been proud. Damn proud." He moved away from Dean and towards the front door. He opened the door and then stopped. "You and Sam? There was never anything that you boys could do that wouldn't make him proud of you. Not as long as you remembered who you were and did the best you could. I want you to remember that, Dean."

The door slammed shut leaving Dean to stare at the house, a frown on his face. Did he remember who he was? Was he doing the best he could?

No. He wasn't.

He was Dean Winchester, John Winchester's son, Sam Winchester's brother but some how on his journey back from hell, he'd forgotten a part of that and let his own fears and self-doubts twist him and manipulate him.

_If you can't save him, son, you might have to kill him…_

His father's secret washed back over him with new meaning.

_Be the loaded gun._

Suddenly, Dean needed to talk to his brother. It was time to be Sam's brother again, not just his keeper. If Sam wanted to learn, Ruby could teach him, but Dean had to be there every step of the way. He just couldn't trust Ruby to do his job, he wouldn't let her either. It was his place to make sure nothing hurt Sammy.

Especially Sam.

The End


End file.
